Ranger Sword Bearer
by IsebellaLynnette
Summary: Gilan Dalamar, son of Battlemaster David in Caraway Fief, is bored with and tired of his sword training. But then the mysterious Ranger Halt comes to visit. Maybe it's the perfect chance for Gilan to add some excitement to his dull, humdrum life.
1. Chapter 1

OK, first off, this story was my own idea. I didn't take it from anybody else, though I admit that one of my friends inspired this. Anyway, as I have only seen one specific story on Gilan's apprenticeship, here's this story for ya! ;D

* * *

Fourteen-year-old Gilan Dalamar, son of Battlemaster David of Caraway Fief, was not in a good mood.

He swung his sword wildly at the nearest gnarled root and, when it refused to be sliced through, savagely hacked at the stubborn thing, feeling a fierce sense of satisfaction as he saw it fall apart.

"Are you alright?"

He jumped at the unexpected question, still breathing hard over his exertion with the stubborn root. He whirled around and saw his younger sister, Meralyn, standing there.

"I'm as fine as can be expected after a tortuous four hours with _that guy_," he growled. Instantly, he regretted saying the words when he saw her hurt expression.

"Sorry," he said gently, coming over to her and hugging her. She smiled warmly up at him, the awkward moment over.

"Hey, the Ranger Halt's visiting Father again. Just wanted to let you know." She grinned and took off running, ten meters away before Gilan came to his senses and chased after her. _Good old_ _Meralyn,_ he thought fondly. _Always the same._

Unfortunately, the mysterious Ranger was already gone by the time the two children reached their father's private apartments. Gilan refused to be put off, though, and repeatedly questioned his father as to the Ranger's whereabouts until finally, reluctantly, he gave in.

"He went into the forest. Apparently he's resting for his noonday meal right now," Sir David told his impatient son. "But you'd better hurry-he said he needed to return to Redmont as quickly as possible."

Gilan was out the door before his father had even finished. The Battlemaster grinned at his daughter. "Go on then, Meralyn. Keep him out of trouble."

She grinned as well and took off after her older brother. Sir David shook his head, still smiling. They would be in for an unpleasant surprise...

* * *

Meanwhile, Gilan glared at the trees around him in frustration. "I've lost the trail! And just when I thought I could follow his tracks!"

Up until then, there had been telltale hints of the Ranger's presence. Cloth stuck in the bushes, crumpled twigs leading down one path, and one time a broken arrow shaft pointing towards more clues.

But in this little clearing, Gilan could see no sign of the Ranger. He'd looked everywhere: left, right, down, the tree roots, the rocks, the bushes, the flowers-

Up! He hadn't thought to look up! Quickly, he scrambled up the nearest tree and peered in all the directions, all of them, this time, even looking farther up into the tree. He still couldn't see any sign of the Ranger, but that was because all of the nearby trees were blocking his view. Carefully, he sat down on the branch he'd clambered up on, slid down so that he was left hanging by his arms, then reached for the next branch and climbed up on it.

There he was, sitting by that small stream. Gilan called it the Bubbly One, and in nearly all instances, that was exactly what it was; Gilan could never quite imagine how all those rocks managed to retain their seat in the rapids.

But the Ranger was sitting next to a slower, gentler part of the stream, and that emboldened him enough to quietly sneak up on the Ranger, for what reason Gilan had no real idea. Maybe, just maybe, if he showed enough skill at stealth and secrecy like all the Rangers could, Halt would take pity on him and let him be his apprentice, if only to get away from the horrendous protocol and discipline expected of him all day, every day!

A grunt brought his attention back to the present. The Ranger had settled down to eat, taking a water canteen and some dry, hard bread out of his pack.

Gilan hardly dared to breathe, inching his way closer ever so slowly, keeping his eyes locked on the Ranger just in case.

It was as well Gilan showed such extreme caution. Halt stiffened, seeming to have heard something, and his eagle eyes keenly scanned his surroundings, finally stopping on the very tree Gilan stood behind. The boy froze, his gaze locked on Halt, heart pounding in his chest as he hoped that Halt would soon turn away and go back to his meal.

After what seemed like an hour but what was in reality twenty seconds, Halt turned away, then immediately whipped around again, staring at the shadows where the boy hid. Gilan still kept frozen, paralyzed in both fear and some apprehension as to what would happen if the Ranger caught him. Halt eventually grunted and settled back down to finish his meal.

Gilan slowly eased himself into a crouch and cautiously moved forward, moving his feet with extreme care and always staring right at Halt, looking for any sign of suspicion. But the Ranger sighed and slouched over more comfortably, chewing slowly on the dry, brittle food. Gilan heaved a silent sigh of relief. He was only fifteen meters away from Halt now. Ten meters...five...

Just as Gilan was reaching for the pack behind the Ranger, Halt suddenly turned, grabbed Gilan by the scruff of his neck, then sent him flying into the nearby stream!

Gilan hit the water with a _smack!_ and he instinctively pulled his way up from the bottom. His head broke the surface and, gasping for breath, he dragged himself up from the water's edge, soaked to the bone and humiliated. Partly because of his failure, when he had been so close to success.

But mostly because he saw his younger sister staring at him from the cover of the trees some thirty meters away, eyes wide-whether from fear or laughter, Gilan couldn't tell. He did know, however, that she had just seen him make a rather big mistake, in front of his own personal hero.

And that was something that Gilan, no matter how loving of his sister he might be, would never stand for.

He drew breath to berate her for following him into the forest, then stopped as he realized that she was already gone. Running back to tell Father of his failure attempt to skip Swordsmanship Practice, no doubt, Gilan thought, disgruntled.

But a low, deep voice interrupted his thoughts and immediately brought him back to the present.

"Thought you might try something like this," the Ranger said, grasping Gilan's wrist, forcing the boy to look into his eyes. Gilan shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"What do you have to say for yourself, boy?"

Inevitably, the light brown eyes slid away, as Halt had expected. But what he didn't foresee was the boy's answer.

"I want to get away from all the Battleschool practicing!" Gilan cried, trying and failing to break free from the Ranger's iron grip. "It was stupid trying to sneak up on you, but I wanted to-" He stopped abruptly. What could he say? He'd been trying to _prove_ himself by attempting to take some of the Ranger's belongings, and then get caught and humiliated in front of his little sister?

Now, he felt a horrible sense of impending doom as he awaited the punishment detail the Ranger would inevitably force on him.

But surprisingly, the Ranger continued in a milder tone, "You know, you're not half bad at unseen movement. Care to see how I do it?"

Gilan nodded quickly, not at all sure that this wasn't some sort of trick, that the Ranger might not just be leading him on. But as he watched, he gasped.

Halt seemed to melt away into the shadows of the trees as their branches moved with the wind. He merged with its seemingly random patterns, soundlessly walking around the clearing. Gilan gave up trying to see him after several seconds. The boy started as Halt suddenly seemed to rise out of the ground next to him.

"How d'you do that?" he asked.

Halt looked at him. "Practice."

"Can I try?" Gilan asked, hopping from one foot to the other as he waited for Halt's words.

"All right then. Go ahead," the Ranger said, gesturing the boy forward.

Gilan hesitated, then came to a decision and, after studying the wind patterns and the movement of the shadows, darted into the nearest one and rolled instinctively to break his fall. Lying low on the ground to make it more difficult to be seen, he propelled himself forward with his elbows and knees, moving slowly so that his movements were harder to focus on. As the shadows moved, he would follow them, looking like one more rippling patch of darkness to the untrained eye.

Almost silently, Gilan crept around the clearing, moving in a circle until he saw that Halt's back was turned towards him. Slowly, he rose into a crouch, shuffling forward ever so carefully, about to take the Ranger by surprise...

...When he suddenly turned around and grabbed Gilan's wrist, a faint hint of sardonic humor dancing in his eyes. He said quietly, "That was good, boy. But not good enough to deceive a senior Ranger who's been in the business for over fifteen years." Then, seeing Gilan's forlorn expression, he added, "However, there may be some hope for you yet. Let's get started."

For the next several days, the Ranger instructed Gilan in the arts of unseen and unheard movement, as well as how to do basic tracking and how to handle a bow. At the end of each day, Gilan was sweaty and tired from the intense work the Ranger had given him. But he didn't mind. Anything to delay his return to _that_ Battleschool was fine with him.

On Saturday, though, Halt didn't force him to brew the coffee, or water and feed Abelard-the Ranger's horse-or even shoot ten rapid sets of arrows into the nearby tree trunks.

The Ranger led Gilan away from their tent to a place near the stream where it became more wild. All at once Gilan sensed that, whatever Halt was planning to tell him, it was certain to be important.

"Do you want to continue training like this?"

"Oh, yes, please! It's so much better than all that _protocol_ and _noble behavior_ back at the Castle," Gilan snorted derisively. "Learning how to use the sword is cool, but not when there's an angry, strict man forever yelling at your face about-" He stopped awkwardly. He couldn't be sure that one of the other boys learning under the Swordmaster wasn't listening in on their conversation right now. The other boys were _always_ spiteful enough to report on him, he knew. Several years back, he'd learned that the hard way.

Halt, recognizing the inner turmoil of the boy in his own youth, suddenly felt a gruff sympathy for the boy. He knew exactly what Gilan was talking about. When his own brother had-

_Stop it, _he told himself angrily. _Don't even _think _about what happened back then._

Halt seemed to shake his bitter thoughts away, then turned back to the anxious boy in front of him.

"Perhaps," the Ranger said slowly, "we can make an arrangement with the Swordmaster..."

* * *

Wow! That was the longest chapter I have _ever_ written, which is saying something. XD

Still, hope you enjoyed! I'd like to hear your guys' thoughts on whether to limit this to just working out a plan with the Swordmaster or Gilan going on an adventure or something.

Now I have to update _Dear Friend_, so bye for now! :D


	2. Chapter 2

OK, I'm back again! I've decided that I'll regularly update this on Tuesdays/Thursdays, dependent on the amount of homework I have, of course. But anyway, please enjoy the second installment of Sword Bearer! :)

By the way, thanks to my four reviewers! I hope you aren't disappointed with this chapter.

**Disclaimer: I really hate these. I do not own Ranger's Apprentice. Goes for the whole shebang.**

* * *

Gilan hugged his father and sister good-bye.

"I promise I'll come and visit you as much as possible," he said breathlessly, ignoring Meralyn's snort and his father's sad expression. "Please, believe me," Gilan insisted. "I promise."

Meralyn punched him lightly. "Don't you dare break it."

Gilan looked deep into her eyes for a moment, cerulean blue into emerald green. Then he replied huskily, throat suddenly dry, "I won't, Meralyn."

Halt laid one hand on his shoulder, surprising him. He hadn't assumed the grizzled Ranger could be so personal. In fact, he hadn't thought that Halt could be personal at all.

"We should go," Halt said. "I need to tell the Baron that I've gotten an apprentice."

Gilan nodded, then swung up on Wildfire, his battlehorse. As he set off with the Ranger, he couldn't help looking back. The sight almost brought tears to his eyes. His father and Meralyn just standing there, staring at him and the long road he was traveling down...

He waved several times, then turned back around, not nearly as cheerful as normal. For the first time, he wondered if he had been right to choose to become Halt's apprentice.

* * *

They rode in silence for many kilometers, Gilan more subdued than normal at his recent parting with his family, Halt as grim and taciturn as ever.

Eventually, Gilan could stand the deafening silence no longer. "Where are we going?"

Halt raised an eyebrow. "To the fief I patrol," he said, in a tone that indicated it was the obvious answer.

"I know _that_," Gilan said, rolling his eyes. "I meant, what's the name of the fief you patrol?"

"Redmont," Halt answered shortly. "Now come on, boy, we need to eat."

Gilan nodded and dismounted from Wildfire, tied her lead reins to a nearby tree, and took the stale bread and cold fruit that Halt handed him, leaning back on a rock. He frowned as he tried unsuccessfully to shovel the food into his mouth.

Looking up, he noted with some interest that Halt had built a fire and brought a coffepot out of one of his saddlebags. Coffee. Reminded him of home. Where Meralyn and Father were. The smile on his face died and he gazed into the distance, lost in thought.

"D'you like coffee?"

Gilan started, then realized that it was Halt who had just asked him the question. The Ranger tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Gilan's answer.

"I said, boy, d'you like coffee?"

"Ah! Yes. Of course. I do. Sorry."

Halt turned a baleful eye on him. "Well then, don't just sit there smelling the roses. I've already poured a cup out for you."

"Thanks, Halt." Gilan stood and walked over to the fire, then stooped and retrieved a wooden cup filled to the brim with the bitter black drink. He dug into his pocket and produced a small packet of sugar. Smacking his lips in anticipation, he opened the packet and poured the delightfully sweet sugar into the cup, stirring the mixture with a spoon that Halt had generously given him. After one minute, Gilan judged the coffee ready and took a long, deep draft from the cup.

"Ah," he sighed. "This coffee is amazing."

"You know good coffee, then?" Halt raised an eyebrow. "Your father never told me that."

Gilan slowly lowered his cup. "What?"

"You heard me."

There was a pause, then Gilan asked, "Just how long have you two known each other, anyway?"

Halt gazed into the fire for several long moments before answering. "I suppose you've heard of Morgarath and the Battle of Hackham Heath?"

Gilan shivered. "Who hasn't?"

Halt nodded somberly as he met Gilan's gaze. "That's when we met. We fought together in that battle, along with several other knights and Rangers. I believe it had been the first time in over one hundred years that the Rangers were not viewed with mistrust by anyone..."

"Besides Morgarath," Gilan put in, and Halt nodded again.

"He's afraid and suspicious of us. Before that battle, he had no real idea of how skilled we were or what we actually did, despite being a senior Baron. However, now that he does know, and hates us for it, that could be a potentially fatal lever in his hands. And it doesn't help that he has an efficient spy network."

"But he can't get at us, can he? I thought he was trapped in those dismal mountains!"

Halt shook his head. "He's in there, but not trapped. There have been rumors floating around about him gathering more allies to use against the Kingdom. And he's been free to send out his Wargals, in small parties, over the cliffs, along with some of his men, to act as spies and diversions all this time. It's been seven years since he rebelled against us, but the Kingdom has barely relaxed, if at all. Just more proof of the enemy's infinite patience and cunning-"

"He's making the farmers and other villagers more nervous by delaying the real, all-out battle," Gilan said. "Just to make them on edge, so that they never know what to expect next! That's not fair!"

"It might not be fair, boy, but that's the way life is. Now go to bed. I'll wake you for watch," Halt said, standing and reaching for two arrows from his quiver.

Gilan spread already-gathered, soft pine boughs on the ground and lay down, then covered himself with a blanket and soon was breathing steadily and easily.

Halt quickly moved into the shadows of a nearby rock outcrop, holding his bow and the two arrows he'd drawn ready, the cowl of his cloak concealing his face as always, and stood guard, gaze always changing, widening and narrowing, never focused on one spot for more than a second. He sighed silently. It was going to be a long, hard night, with only two of them standing guard and Gilan being a mere boy.

And he still wasn't sure whether he'd been right to take Gilan as his apprentice.

* * *

It's an interesting place to stop, I know. I wrote this in, like, two hours on Monday, but I kept changing it and editing it, until finally I had this. ^_^;

Expect an update by next week. Please review and tell me what you thought! :)

(Oops, I'm doing the same thing Lady Maeror did. I have, like, four stories up on the front page. _; Oops.)


	3. Chapter 3

I'm so sorry I didn't update in so long! Don't kill me! Kill my school. (Homework is evilll...)

Anyway, now that I finally have some _free_ time to write stories instead of working on idiotic projects, here is the third chapter! :)

* * *

"Wake up, boy."

Gilan groaned and rolled over onto his other side.

Halt sighed impatiently. "Come on. There could be enemy spies sneaking up on us right now."

With a jolt, Gilan burst out of his blankets. "What? Where? Who are they? Why-?"

"Anyways," Halt continued smoothly, interrupting him, "it's your turn for watch."

"B-but...what if I make a mistake? Or what if I fall asleep?" Gilan asked. His eyes widened as he remembered some of the more somber tales his father had told him and Meralyn about camping out in the wild.

"You won't, if you know what's good for you," Halt answered, surprising Gilan, who looked up to see if there was any sign of humor in his dark eyes.

Nothing.

"Thanks," Gilan muttered as he got to his feet and followed Halt towards the rocky outcrop where the grizzled Ranger had kept watch.

"You're welcome. Now, boy, put on your cloak."

"Oh yeah! I completely forgot about it last night!" Gilan rushed to his saddlebags on Wildfire, then produced the traditional camouflage cloak of the Rangers that Halt had given him several days ago.

Halt nodded as he swung it around his shoulders. "So far so good. Now come back over here and listen closely."

Gilan obeyed instantly.

"We Rangers never choose the campsite itself as a place to keep watch. Do you know why?"

Gilan hesitated as he thought that one over. He had only just turned fourteen, and wasn't sure how much he would really know about being a Ranger. "Um...to be able to see farther?"

To his surprise, Halt nodded. "Partly. The thing is, if you're at the campsite, it's very hard not to look at the campfire. And what did I tell you during that first week you trained with me?"

"'All bright light ruins your night vision,'" Gilan answered promptly.

"Not bad. I see your memory isn't as horrible as most teenagers' memories are."

Gilan swelled up. Even though he had barely known Halt all his life, he had realized early enough that the grim Ranger didn't give unnecessary praise.

"However, there's more to it," Halt added before the boy could get too proud of himself. "This way, anybody trying to sneak up on the campsite is less likely to see us."

Gilan nodded, feeling that some response was required of him. "All right...but how do you actually keep watch? I mean...what do you look for? And do you move at all?"

"Of course, boy! If you didn't move you would die from boredom in the first hour!" The intensity behind Halt's exclamation surprised Gilan. But then the Ranger continued, "And moving around makes sure your senses explore in all directions, not just straight ahead. It also ensures that you catch more, and switch your focus of vision constantly. That way, you see five meters away, over that knoll there-" Halt pointed-"and all around the campsite." He waved his hand.

"Can I see how you do it?" Gilan asked. Eager as he was to prove himself, he didn't want to do it wrong from the very first time.

A tiny light of approval glimmered in Halt's eye, but then it was gone before Gilan could notice it, just as quickly as it had appeared.

"Very well. Watch closely," he said as he slipped two arrows from his quiver and set the arrow nocks close to the bowstring. Before Gilan could ask, he said, "I do this so that, when I need to shoot, I don't have excessive movement that might alert an attacker to where I am."

Gilan nodded.

"See how my eyes are switching focus constantly? I'll look a few meters out, then look all the way up to that knoll and the area surrounding it. My eyes never stop moving. I never stop processing information, listening to the sounds of the night, straining my eyes to search for any possible enemies.

"Now, we also have to move around from time to time. To make sure my movement walking around the campsite is as indistinguishable as possible, I walk slowly," Halt said. "Walk in a nice circle, and if you hear a sound, turn slowly and try to identify it."

Gilan nodded again, then moved out further from the campsite and tried it for himself. Once, he stumbled over a hidden rock. But otherwise, he felt that he'd managed to do the job quite well, considering. He came back to Halt and looked expectantly at him.

"Not bad for your first time," Halt said gruffly. "But you've got a long way to go." There was a pause where Halt seemed to be deciding something. Then he nodded and continued, "Tell you what. I'll watch you for the first half-hour or so of your watch and give you some pointers. Then I'll leave you to your own devices for the rest of your watch. Alright?"

Gilan nodded. But then a thought struck him. "But...what if I hear something? What if an enemy is coming towards us?"

Halt stared at him for a long moment before answering. "Stay out of sight and don't move immediately. If it's an enemy, shoot to wound him."

"And then yell for me," he added as an after-thought.

* * *

Gilan was struggling to stay awake. He'd been on watch for over three hours now. The sky was beginning to brighten, and all around him, the birds were gradually awakening and distracting him. One fluttered over his head, another soared down to land on that branch behind him.

_"Attune yourself to the natural sounds. That way, you'll hear any foreign sound," _Halt's words echoed in his head.

Gilan jerked awake, shocked. He couldn't believe he'd let Halt down already! His mentor had entrusted him with a big responsibility. And when there was only half-an-hour left, he couldn't even keep watch over the camp!

Cheeks flaming, he decided to wake Halt up and tell him exactly what had happened. He stretched his aching muscles and was about to walk back to the campsite when a rough hand clamped over his mouth!

He fought valiantly against his captor, and at first he seemed to be winning. Gilan was a vicious young man with a lot of energy.

But then he felt a blinding flash of pain behind his right ear and everything turned black.

* * *

"Gilan!"

Halt cursed as he stumbled over an unseen tree root. He rubbed his foot and looked anxiously around him. Where could the boy possibly be?

_Great,_ Halt thought bitterly as he kept searching for Gilan around the campsite. _The second week, and the boy is already missing! Some mentor I am. What am I going to tell David?_

And then he stopped in his tracks as he saw something.

Cloth!

Halt inspected the loose fibers and nodded. They were from a Ranger cloak, all right. But why would Gilan be so careless as to let the cloak get caught on the tree branch? That was one of the very first lessons they'd gone through while riding towards Redmont.

He widened his focus and was instantly rewarded with a scene of completely trampled-down grass. Signs of a struggle.

Halt went down on one knee and examined the ground more closely. The grass was flattened in jumbled, random clumps on one side, while the other side had more even and controlled tufts.

So the struggle had happened only a little while ago. Less than an hour ago. And the person with calm movements had quickly overpowered the-

Halt caught his breath. Which way had that person taken Gilan?

The grass was flattened in two shallow furrows leading away from the campsite. So he'd been knocked out, then dragged away by someone.

But why would Gilan be taken prisoner?

Halt shrugged. Right now, it didn't matter why they were taking him. Where they were taking him? Now _that_ mattered.

* * *

He was upside-down, tied to and bouncing against something hard.

Gilan groaned, almost inaudibly as the thing he was riding on sped up, but his captor still heard him.

The horse, for that was indeed what he'd been slung unceremoniously on, stopped quickly. Gilan groaned again and tried unsuccessfully to get rid of the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

"Don't think you'll try to overpower me again, will you, Sir High-and-Mighty-Gilan?" his captor asked, having dismounted.

That low, boasting voice...he'd heard it before. But where?

Suddenly he gasped. "Daltien..."

"Took you long enough," his captor whispered, shaking him fiercely. "And that's the least of your worries. MacNeil has sworn to tan the skin off your backside."

Gilan nearly groaned aloud yet again, but determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of Daltien. Instead he asked, "So why did you come after me?"

He received a stinging blow to his head.

"Don't sass _me_, boy," Daltien growled. "And don't try to find out any further information. You're a nasty Sneaker now, though not a very well-trained one if _I _say so, myself."

Gilan bit back the angry retort that sprang to his lips. Instead, he forced himself to calm down and, despite Daltien's previous warning, had to ask another question: "What did I do to make MacNeil so angry?"

Daltien mounted his jet-black battlehorse again, smirking down at Gilan.

"According to all the evidence, you attacked my mother."

* * *

O.o Wow, that was another long chapter. But anyway, since I didn't do this at the beginning, thanks to all my reviewers! Hope this doesn't disappoint. :)


	4. Chapter 4

And yet another story updated!

Seriously, please review this one, because it took me a while to get the whole chapter written. I edited it and checked over it and so on and so forth. You guys are seriously getting a major treat right now with all my updating. XD

* * *

Gilan was having the most uncomfortable time of his life.

The jet-black battlehorse suddenly jerked to a stop, the only things preventing Gilan from flying off being his bonds.

"Time for my dinner," Daltien sighed as he stiffly dismounted from his horse. He looked scornfully at Gilan, still tied awkwardly to the saddle. "Nothing for you, lanky-bones."

Gilan bit his lip. He kind of understood why Daltien hated him so much, but not really.

"Hmm...we're already halfway back to Caraway, Gilan," Daltien said, smirking as he checked his map. "Looks like your official trial will be held tomorrow. If not then, the day after." He laughed softly. "And don't worry, all the evidence has been gathered. We also have four eye-witnesses who swore that it was you, including MacNeil himself."

Gilan shook his head as well as he could. "Blast you, Daltien," he said bitterly.

In an instant, his enemy from childhood was on him and was beating him furiously, hitting him wherever it would hurt. Gilan fought back, and occasionally managed to wind him with a kick, but then his enemy would leap back and attack with even more vengeance.

But then Gilan's strength failed him; he'd gone the whole day without food, and he was tiring after being beaten and bruised all over. Daltien always managed to find a way to break through his guard, and eventually, he simply gave up.

The blows continued, with increased intensity.

"Wuss," he heard his enemy say from a distance. His image was blurred, and for some reason Gilan felt like he was standing back and watching himself struggle at a distance.

Suddenly, he seemed to be hallucinating. For a black-shafted arrow had just buried itself into his enemy's arm, causing him to stumble back, clutching the wound; and then another broke apart the ropes tying him to the saddle; and as he collapsed on the ground, he watched the third and fourth arrows take Daltien in both of his legs.

And then the welcoming folds of darkness took him in, and he knew no more.

* * *

"Gilan."

The deep voice had a ring of authority to it, and it seemed familiar somehow, but...Gilan winced as the hot flames of pain made their presence felt again.

_Come back, child,_ the darkness whispered. _Sink back into my arms, and the pain will go away..._

He almost did it. But then, the voice came again, even louder this time:

"_Gilan!_"

The worried faces of his father and Halt swam into view above him.

The boy cracked a tiny smile. "Hello, Father."

Sir David patted his hand gently. "Rest, son. You haven't got a thing to worry about."

Gilan obediently closed his eyes, and soon the darkness took him back again.

The days passed by in fits and snatches. Every few hours, Gilan would wake up to find Halt and his father still watching over him; the nurse would check over him, apply a pain-killing salve over his wounds and clean and treat them, then give him some food and water; afterward, he would be put back to sleep. And so the process continued.

But one day, when Gilan woke up, he realized that Halt and his father were sleeping. He prepared for an intense flare of pain, but surprisingly, there was barely anything compared to the first moments after waking up over the past several days. Had the nurse just put on salve?

No, he didn't feel any numbness. So...his bruises and contusions were finally healing, thank goodness!

He lay back and sighed. "Thanks, Halt. Thanks, Dad."

Surprisingly, they both sat up, as if they'd been awake the whole time, and looked first at each other, then at him.

"How's everything? Do you feel a lot of pain?" Halt asked him urgently.

Both men sat back with a sigh of relief as Gilan shook his head. "There's still just a little bit. But I don't feel any numbness, so I guess it's time for the salve."

"No, I think you've had quite enough of that salve for a while, Gilan," his father said, exchanging another glance with Halt.

For once, Gilan didn't protest, instead wrapping his arms around his father and feeling himself drawn into his father's warm embrace.

"You have nothing to worry about, son. The evidence was proven to be deliberately scattered at the scene of crime. The three eyewitnesses saw Daltien from a distance, tall and with blond hair, so they thought it might be you. And MacNeil and Halt have worked out a schedule so that you can learn to be a Ranger and keep training with the sword."

"And what of Daltien, Father?" Gilan asked quietly.

"Punished and sent to work in a flour mill down south," Halt growled. "He'll never escape or come back. I made sure of that."

Gilan wrapped Halt in a tight hug as well. To his surprise, the grim Ranger returned the embrace.

"Thanks, Halt. You have no idea how much that means to me."

Halt opened his mouth as if to disagree, but then changed his mind and closed it again.

"We're just glad that you're back with us, safe and sound, son," David said quietly.

Gilan smiled, then released both men from his embrace and lay back down. He fell asleep quickly.

Halt and David stood up to leave for some food and drink, then looked back at Gilan before they closed the door behind him. He was still sleeping peacefully.

"Tell you what," Halt said. "How about I get the food and water while you stay with him? If I run into Meralyn I'll bring her too," he added.

"Thanks, Halt," David replied, gratitude shining in his eyes. "For everything."

"It's no problem, David. He's a good kid," the Ranger replied, flicking the cowl of his cloak back up before melting into the shadows.

David shook his head, then went back into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. "Thank goodness you're all right, Gil," he said quietly as he ruffled his son's untidy blond hair.

* * *

Aw. :3 I love father/son relationships. But anyway-please review. Again. XD


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